When the blackbirds are back,
when the rain makes them sing again,
the shy masters of the garden
will tell us about little things
like the green lined joy of snowdrops,
the ruby beauty of cherry trees,
spider webs glistening with dew
or the Second Spring revealed anew,
and if we stay quiet long enough
we may hear a few more words of Hope
there is never one Sunrise the same
and the best is always yet to come.
Day by day the Weaver patiently
weaves the tapestry of Time
and Destiny, and Summer achieves
Spring and Winter dreams
and the Autumn sun shines
through the leaves of the vibrant Tree
and so does Love in full transparency
through our thin and quivering souls.
Le chêne illuminé © 2016 – F.G.M.
Rain on a roof window.
Fading roses feel no pain,
but Sorrow hits a crescendo.
Arbres de feu aux ombres d’or,
lente brume incandescente,
lumière des eaux, eaux des couleurs,
Nuit noire, Nuit pure, matin doux,
matin bleu, Orion fidèle, jardin vermeil
ô Saison merveilleuse, belle, éternelle,
By the Stream, Autumn – Dieu :
est-ce parce qu’il Te ressemble
que j’aime autant l’Automne ?
Illustration : By the Stream, Autumn, Paul Gauguin (1885)
Passers-by hurry in the rain
and build castles in Spain
and no one listens to the little shepherd
perched on the fountain of Truth.
Walk slow! He says loud and clear.
Walk slow! As if you were going
to leave the world tomorrow,
and follow the Path of Awe!
And dead leaves only know
why sometimes in the Fall
some lambs still lost in the mist
can hear an angel’s silent Call.
La Fontaine au Berger © 2016 – F.G.M.